


and you shall find me a grave man (epilogue)

by renardroi



Series: and you shall find me a grave man (W359 Big Bang W2017) [2]
Category: Wolf 359 (Radio)
Genre: Epilogue, M/M, maybe mild warning for description of injuries but idk about anything else
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-27
Updated: 2017-12-27
Packaged: 2019-02-22 10:53:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13165419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/renardroi/pseuds/renardroi
Summary: Somewhere in the slithering meandering part of his brain he has a memory of coming to, hazy and uncertain, but the memory feels foreign or alien. He’s not entirely sure that he lived it himself. There were lights, something heavy covering his mouth, someone holding his arm and pushing him down - and screaming, he was screaming. It must have been recent, because it’s so close at hand, but maybe it’s just a bad dream.





	and you shall find me a grave man (epilogue)

Jacobi wakes in darkness. Somewhere in the slithering meandering part of his brain he has a memory of coming to, hazy and uncertain, but the memory feels foreign or alien. He’s not entirely sure that he lived it himself. There were lights, something heavy covering his mouth, someone holding his arm and pushing him down - and screaming, he was screaming. It must have been recent, because it’s so close at hand, but maybe it’s just a bad dream. 

There’s nothing covering his mouth now - it’s been replaced by a small tube blowing oxygen in his face, and he’s grateful for that because his ribs ache and his whole body feels weighted down. Breathing deeply is such a chore. Really, as he thinks about it, his whole body aches. Jacobi turns to look at his arm, the one he knows was hurt before even if he can’t recall how, and while he does so his head spins, for what feels like an eternity. He grits his teeth, sighing and letting his eyes close until some semblance of stability and his sense of direction return, and then he surveys the damage. 

There’s wrapping all the way up his arm, some blood spotted through it, and his wrist has an awkward splint on it. He recalls sluggishly the cuts on his arm, and then his broken wrist - they must be pretty worried about changing the bandages on his arm if they weren’t putting a real cast on his wrist - but he can’t remember why he has bruises and scrapes littering the rest of his body.

He turns his head again to look at his other arm, with less consequences, and notices the IV in the back of his hand, the bruises on his knuckles, the fact that he’s handcuffed to the hospital bed railing, but most importantly the still - but instantly recognizable - figure of Maxwell. She’s dragged a chair over to the side of his his bed and where the railing ends, near his leg, she’s laid her head down and sleeping quietly. Jacobi holds his breath - for just a moment, to make sure that she really is asleep - and lets out a small sigh when he sees her shoulders rise and fall.

Alana has a tight grip on his hand, his uninjured one.

He’s glad that she’s here, even if it makes him cry and if the crying makes his chest hurt more.

* * *

Two days later Kepler visits him in the hospital. Jacobi gets fair warning from Maxwell, but it’s still a punch to the gut when he sees the man himself walk through the door. He might faint. 

He doesn’t.

Kepler stands by the door, and he looks a wreck. There are spiderweb bruises up his neck and jaw and Jacobi suspects most of the rest of him looks the same, since he’s sporting a scarf and gloves. His impeccable hair is in disarray and there’s an unsteadiness in the way that he stands and holds himself, and how he approaches Jacobi’s bedside when beckoned.

Too many people knew who he was, he explains, with breaks to cough. Goddard wanted him to fake his death. Jacobi doesn’t reply, doubtful and conjuring up the image of Kepler as he’d been in the lab. Terrified. Kepler now looks apologetic, and neither really suit his face. No wonder he chooses to put on the facade of injurious smugness.

Never again, Warren swears to him as he sits down in Maxwell’s chair. He doesn’t mention the salvaged security tapes or anything else from that day but he assures Jacobi - never again.


End file.
